Hit and Miss
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: End of S8 AU. Lucas manages to save Ros from the hotel explosion, and though he isn't sorry for a moment he is quickly left thinking that things might have been a lot easier if he hadn't. As Harry and Ruth bond over their concern for members of the team, Ros just wants to get on with recovering before she has to address the gratitude of the Home Secretary she saved.
1. Chapter 1

**This is going to be an AU starting from the last episode of series 8, imagining that Ros didn't die in the explosion. Multiple pairings and I have a vague but not exact idea of where it's going, but I'd love to know what you think. **

**Prologue. **

"_I'm going back for Ros!"_

He saw her on the floor of the hotel lobby, dragging the Home Secretary with her. God only knew how she had managed to get this far.

"Ros!"

Tearing open the door, he moved towards her as fast as he could, scooping her up from the floor in one light motion.

"Lucas, what are doing, get him out first!"

She struggled against him, but she was exhausted from the effort of dragging Andrew Lawrence down uncountable flights of steps.

The Home Secretary was lying on the floor.

"Take Ros and go," he told Lucas, "Leave me."

Lucas did not need telling twice, ignoring Ros' protests, he tore out of the building as fast as he could, carrying her as far away from danger as he could. He signalled to the medics, who swarmed towards them, one of them staying to tend to Ros, the moving past them to help the Home Secretary.

And then there was an enormous crash, and the building behind him came tumbling down. Instinctively, he hunched his body over to protect hers. Then, when the sound had faded, he turned his head and stared in horror at what remained of the building into which five medics had just sped. He could not see anyone moving. In his arms, he heard Ros give a cry of dismay, and he knew she knew what had happened.

The medic standing before him was talking to him.

"She's in danger of losing consciousness," she told him, "Talk to her, try to keep her awake. Bring her over here."

"Ros, listen to me," he told her, lying her on the stretcher that was whisked over from the nearest ambulance, "You're going to be alright. It's going to be ok, you did so well."

Paramedics were clambering over the wreckage of the foyer, looking for bodies. He averted his eyes, concentrating on her dishevelled face.

"Ros, talk to me," he pleaded, "Try to listen to my voice. We're not going to lose you now. Not now we've come this far."

"Where is he?" she asked groggily, "Is he alright?"

He knew who she was talking about and reluctantly cast his eyes back towards the hotel.

And to his amazement, he saw a stretcher being borne out by two paramedics, carrying the Home Secretary, wearing an oxygen mask.

"Yes, Ros," he told her, hardly able to believe it himself, running a hand over her hair in amazement, "You did it. He's out. He's alive. My God, Ros, you're going to be a legend for this."

"I'm still not Greek," came the groggy reply, "Still not dead."

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	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for your reviews, I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter. **

**Three Days Later.**

When she woke up, it was Ruth by her bedside. She smiled, seeing that Ros was awake, putting her book down on the bedside table beside her.

"How are you feeling?" Ruth asked her.

""Better," Ros replied, "Still sore." She managed to lift her hand to her face but with great difficulty and a flash of pain across her chest. "I can't really move."

"The doctor said that should start to get easier soon," Ruth told her, "But that it would hurt for a long time. Do you remember anything from the last few days?"

"Hardly anything," Ros replied, "Little snatches, that's all. How long have I been here?"

"Three days," Ruth replied, "You've broken two ribs and had severe concusssion. We've been taking turns to sit with you. Harry and Lucas only left fifteen minutes ago."

"Tariq hasn't been left to man the Grid alone, has he?" Ros asked.

"No, we're managing to get along without you."

"That's reassuring," Ros replied dryly.

Ruth smiled a little.

"You know, this is the first time Harry has been persuaded to go home since it happened," Ruth told her.

"He's been here for three days?" Ros asked.

Ruth nodded.

"I think he considers your state of health to be the biggest current threat to national security," Ruth told her, "But don't tell him I said that."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Ros replied smartly, but a little more softly. "What about Lucas?" she asked suddenly, "I think I remember Lucas being here."

"He was," Ruth replied, "He was almost as reluctant to go as Harry was."

Ros was quiet.

Her silence was interrupted by a knock at the door. Opening the door, Ruth found a nurse standing there.

"There's an internal call for Miss Myers on line three," she told her.

"Thank you," Ruth replied, turning back to Ros, "Do you feel up to it?"

"I don't see why not," Ros replied, "Just so long as it isn't the bloody PM ringing to give me his thanks. Or to commiserate me, for that matter."

"The PM's office did actually send flowers," Ruth told her, closing the door and indicating to the large bouquet of lilies which sat on a white cabinet at the other side of the room.

"Oh, well remind me to get myself trapped in exploding buildings more often then," Ros replied, reaching the for phone receiver with some difficulty.

"Oh, hang on, can you manage?"

"Just about," Ros replied," grimacing a little, but successfully raising the phone to her ear, "Myers."

"Hello, Ros."

It was Andrew Lawrence.

"Home Secretary," she paused a moment, thinking it would not do to sound as surprised as she was, "How are you?"

"Alive thanks to you," he replied, "How are the ribs?"

"They've seen better days," she answered.

"I'm sorry about that," he replied, "I wish I could think that it happened during the explosion but as you were out of the building by then, I'm afraid it looks like I'm to blame for it."

"No one made me try to lift you," she replied quietly.

He laughed.

"No," he agreed, "No one could have stopped you, either."

"No," she agreed softly.

There was a brief pause.

"Listen, Ros," he went on, "I wasn't just phoning up to ask how you were."

"And there I was about to be flattered," she replied.

He laughed again.

"What I would really like is to take you out to dinner," he continued, "To try to say thank you. When we're both out of here, of course."

"Well, as soon as I'm able to digest solid foods I'll get back to you on that," she told him.

"You're not that bad," Ruth muttered to her, and Ros smiled. She could hear him laughing again at the other end of the line.

"Nevertheless," he told her, "I feel I rather owe you."

"Yes, well I'd usually expect at least one good meal before a man flattens me to the ground but I suppose this might be a rather special case."

Ruth's eyes widened, but she said nothing.

"I think that's fair enough," he replied.

She smiled at the tone of his voice.

"Alright," she told him, smiling a little, "No, I would like that very much. To go to dinner with you."

"Good," he replied happily, "Excellent. I'll ring up again and arrange a time."

"Good," Ros replied, "I'll look forward to it."

Rather than reaching over again to put the phone down, she accepted the offer of Ruth's hand and lay back against her pillows.

Ruth made sure the receiver was clicked securely into the cradle before turning back to Ros.

"So," she asked, trying to stop the smile spreading across her face, "I take it you were just asked out by the Home Secretary?"

"Not in so many words," Ros told her.

"But to dinner?" Ruth pressed.

"Yes. When we're both feeling up to it."

"Well, it will be something to look forward to," Ruth told her, "Something to pass the time."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ros asked.

Ruth was quiet. She had the air of someone who had just accidentally let something slip.

"Ruth?"

"Harry suggested that you might like to take some time off," Ruth told her.

"He suggested what?"

"To give yourself time to feel better," Ruth explained hurriedly, "You need to recuperate properly, Ros. You've been seriously injured."

Ros looked at her very dismissively.

"You might not like hearing it," Ruth told her, "But I think he's right. Did you really expect to be allowed to go straight back to work?"

Ros said nothing.

"Talk to Harry about it when he comes back," Ruth told her, "I doubt it will be long before he's back here."

As if on cue, the door opened. Ros' eyes flashed towards the door, expecting Harry. But instead, it was Lucas who was there, standing in the door with a small bunch of tulips.

"Hello," he spoke quietly to Ros, "The nurse said you had woken up. How are you feeling?"

"As you'd expect me to really," she replied, "I've just been told you all have no immediate use for me and in order to compensate, Ruth thinks it's a great thing that a man who broke two of my ribs is taking me out for dinner."

"That's not what I said!" Ruth interjected hastily.

Lucas frowned a little.

"Andrew Lawrence is taking you out for dinner?" he asked, his eyebrows raising a little.

"Is that such a surprise?" Ros asked him.

"No," he replied frankly, "I'm just surprised that he thinks dinner with himself covers what you did for him."

"Well, that's not such a surprise, he's a politician," she replied.

Lucas smiled.

"These are for you," he told her, handing her the flowers.

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	3. Chapter 3

Popping back to the Grid mean that Harry did not make it back until Ros had fallen asleep again and Lucas had been persuaded to go home, despite offering to stay.

"You still here?" he asked, sinking into the chair beside Ruth.

"It doesn't matter," she replied softly, "It's Saturday tomorrow. And Lucas was here for a long time too."

"I'm thinking of asking the DG if we can relocate the Grid to this hospital room," he told her wryly.

Ruth smiled.

"Not you as well," she told him, "She was awake earlier," she added in reply to his puzzled glance, "And on surprisingly good form for someone who has just narrowly avoided being blown up."

"I'm glad I was at a safe distance, then," he replied, "I take it she didn't take very well to being told to take it easy?"

"Well, you didn't exactly expect her to," Ruth reminded him, "I thought for a moment it was going to be me in the hospital bed. I think it would have been if she could have moved."

"Which is precisely why she needs to have a rest," he told her, "I've been thinking about suggesting it for a while, after what happened with Adam and then Jo, but we'd have never been able to cope without her. Now, we have to anyway. I might see if Lucas will have a word with her," he added after a moment's thought, "Sometimes these thing can seem more palatable when they don't come as an order."

"I think it will take more than a different mouthpiece to persuade Ros," Ruth remarked.

"Well, perhaps the broken ribs will," he replied, "She's not an unreasonable person."

"But she is reckless," she responded, "Witness how she got the broken ribs."

He let out a quiet sigh, and she softened a little.

"But you're right, Lucas might be able to make her see sense."

"Either that or I could ask the Home Secretary to bar her from the Grid. Why are you smiling?"

"No reason," Ruth replied, "But Andrew Lawrence is unlikely to do anything to cross Ros, ever. She did save his life."

"As part of my team."

"He didn't break your ribs in the process. I'm not sure he feels the same level of obligation."

Harry let out a soft laugh.

"I don't think I'll live to see the day when a politician feels a genuine level of obligation."

Ruth said nothing for a moment.

"Get Lucas to talk to her, then," she told him, "I think he'll want to do what he can to help."

Harry turned a little more towards her, looking at her more carefully.

"You said that in a definite tone of voice," he remarked, raising his eyebrow just a fraction"What are you thinking, Ruth?"

"Nothing. Only that there are certain people that we would all run back into a burning building to save, and certain people that we wouldn't risk it for. And I think the latter probably outnumber the former."

There was a moment of silence. He heard her draw a breath, and the tension heightened, so he asked;

"Or in this case an exploding building?"

"If you like," she replied.

"What are you saying?" he asked. "Ros and Lucas?"

"I'm not saying anything," she told him, "But if I were to venture... more the other way around, I think."

He was quiet, watching her expression.

"I don't know," she told him, "It's almost as difficult to get him to go home from here as it is you. I'm just glad we didn't have another Adam and Fiona on our hands."

He expelled a long breath, signalling his agreement.

"You know, I used to have nightmares about operations from years ago," he told her softly, "Where I could have been killed but obviously never was. Last night when I was asleep in this chair I dreamt that Lucas hadn't got her out. When I woke up it was such a bloody relief to see her lying there."

"Harry..." Her hand laid gently on his arm. "He _did _get her out. It's ok."

Her fingers squeezed his arm gently and a moment later he smiled at her.

"I know it is," he replied, "Thank you, Ruth."

There was quiet for a moment.

"Have you spoken to the doctor today?" he wanted to know.

"I haven't, but Ros has," she replied, "She was conscious, therefore she insisted."

"But you were there?" he pressed.

"Yes. They think she'll be able to go home soon, maybe even tomorrow, they're a lot happier now that the concussion seems to have cleared up."

"She'll be happy about that," he replied, "I bet they couldn't wait to get rid of her, once she'd recovered the power of coherent speech. They wouldn't have been able to cope."

Ruth smiled.

"The doctor did seem taken aback by the rate of recovery. I didn't tell him that she was comparatively subdued."

"If they discharge her tomorrow, I can send my driver to give her a lift home."

"Lucas has already offered," Ruth told him, "And Andrew Lawrence said he would send a car if she wanted it."

Harry raised his eyebrows again. Ruth smiled a little.

"He's taking her out to dinner too," she told him.

"Is he indeed?" he asked, "I wonder if there'll be a permission to socialise form on my desk."

"You don't need to vet him, he's the Home Secretary. But if you did call round to Ros's place tomorrow I think she'd appreciate you telling her in person that you want her to take a break."

"Somehow I don't think she would."

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	4. Chapter 4

"Ruth, don't think I'm not grateful, but don't you have anything better to do than play nursemaid to me all day long? It's a Monday."

Ruth looked up from where she was placing a pot of tea that she had just made on the table at Ros who had been left to recline in state on the sofa. Through sheer force of willpower it seemed she had managed to persuade the doctor to discharge her- though Lucas had wondered if there hadn't been more than a little threatening cajolery involved on Ros' part- under the proviso that she was kept a close eye on.

"What are you supposed to do without me?" Ruth asked her in a slightly bored voice, knowing full well what the answer would be, "You can barely move."

"Did Harry put you up to this?" she asked with a disgruntled frown, and then a wince as she tried to rearrange the pillows behind herself so that she could sit up more.

"Careful," Ruth told her, adjusting the cushion for her so that she could relax again, "And yes, he did, as it happens. Because he's concerned about you."

"Well I hope he's paying you overtime."

"Look, Ros," Ruth sat down beside her on the sofa, taking up her own cup of tea, "I know you're probably sick of the sight of me, and you're angry with Harry because he's making you take time off, I agree the concept is fundamentally alien to your nature, but you're an intelligent woman for God's sake, you have to appreciate that your body needs a little bit of time to heal before it can work properly again. I make no comment about your mind because you've made it perfectly clear that you don't think I have a right to comment on that, but I can't imagine the break will do it all harm and no good either."

Ros said nothing, sipped her tea and only raised her eyebrows slightly.

"All I know is that Harry would never ask you to do anything that he didn't think was ultimately for your good, Ros," Ruth told her, "He looks at you like a daughter."

"Please spare me the sentimentality, Ruth," Ros replied, her voice a little harsh, "If I wanted a surrogate family I think I'd look for them somewhere other than among the British security services."

"Well, you wouldn't and you didn't," Ruth replied shortly, "And regardless of whether you wanted us, you've got us and we're damn well going to look after you."

There was a silence.

"I should go," Ruth told her.

"Ruth-..."

"You're right, I have been here far too long," Ruth told her, "I should let you have a rest. You _must_ be sick of the sight of me. Anyway, Lucas said he'd call by on his way back from work, you don't want us all here at once. I'll go, but you've got my number."

Before Ros could utter a word of protest, Ruth had picked up her bag and left. The front door went a moment later. Letting her head fall back against the pillows, Ros let out a heavy sigh and swore a little under her breath. The movement caused pain to shoot up her side again and she began to realise that Ruth was right, she couldn't move, and now she had driven the person who would have taken care of her away.

"Well done, Rosalind, excellent, first class," she murmured angrily.

Before she could remonstrate herself any further, though, the sound of the front door went again. For a moment she wondered if Ruth had had a change of heart.

"Only me," Lucas' face appeared in the doorway.

"You should knock first, Lucas," she told him dryly, "You're lucky, I could have had you on the floor, breaking in like that."

He raised his eyebrow and smiled.

"I'll be more careful next time," he told her sitting down on the sofa, "How are you feeling?"

"I've been considerably better," she answered.

"Though probably not after being carried from a falling building," he reminded her.

"Yeah, alright," she scowled, "I do get it, you know. It was a big bang."

"This tea fresh?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, shifting a little, "And yes you are welcome to some, thank you very much."

"Cheers," he replied, reaching for the spare cup Ruth had left out for him and pouring himself some.

"So," she asked him, quite casually, perhaps a little too much so, "Anything interesting happen today?"

"Oh no," he replied, "You're not getting me like that. More than my life's worth."

She let out a distempered sigh.

"Come on, Lucas," she told him, "Humour me."

"The last time I humoured you, you nearly got yourself blown up," he reminded her, "Harry would have my guts for garters. What did you do today?" 

"Well, let's see," she pretended to think, "I finally persuaded that fool of a doctor that I was ready to be discharged. Highlight of the day was undoubtedly the thirty minute car ride from the hospital to here, whereupon Ruth then continued to fret around me as I lay here in state until I couldn't take it any more and she had to leave. Because she thought I was going to kill her, I think, in spite of being virtually immobile. That's how my day has been, alright?"

"Sorry," he replied meekly, "I shouldn't have asked."

"No, you shouldn't," she agreed, "Now, just tell me what happened on the Grid today."

He remained tacitly silent, meeting her stern look with an apologetic smile.

"How did you persuade the doctor to let you out if you can't move?" he asked her, determined to change the subject.

"I told him I could have him struck off from practising."

"Jesus, Ros," he told her quietly, "You could have toned it down a bit."

"What," she asked him, "And take the fun out of it?"

He met her eyes and saw that she was smiling in spite of herself. He grinned too.

"You're insane," he told her.

"So are you," she replied, swiftly, "Running back into that building to get me."

"Oh, I don't know," he judged, "No more than you would have done for me."

She smiled ruefully.

"Not in my present state," she told him, "Harry wouldn't let me."

"Fair enough," he replied, "I'll play it safe until you're back to save me. What's the matter?" he asked, seeing a look that flashed suddenly across her face.

"Nothing," she replied quietly.

"Ros."

He gave her a very steady look, and would not look away until she spoke.

"I'm worried that I won't be able to come back," she told him softly, "If I stop now."

"What on earth makes you say that?" he asked, surprised by the admission, shuffling just slightly closer to her end of the sofa.

"Very few people can come back from time off like this," she replied quietly, "Adam Carter couldn't. I saw him. He was back, but never the same."

"That was different," Lucas insisted, "In lots of ways. I came back after Russia."

"Oh, Lucas," she told him, "You're not honestly using yourself as an instance of a successful recovery, are you?"

He smiled humourlessly.

"Maybe you could use the time off to work on your diplomacy," he suggested tenderly.

"Sorry," she sniffed a little, "I don't know what I'm saying. Pain killers are making me a bit funny."

"Yeah, I know," he replied, "Do you want me to go?"

"You don't have to," she replied, "But I'd like to sleep."

"I'll be back in two hours," he told her softly, "I'll check on you then. Do you need help lying down?"

"No, I'll manage," she told him, "You go."

She settled herself and listened for the sound of the door going again. She gave it ten seconds and then sat back up as well as she was able. Then she reached for her phone.

"Yes, hello, Home Secretary?"

"Ros?"

"Hello, Andrew. Get yourself well enough to take me out for dinner. If I don't get out of here soon I'm going to go mad."

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	5. Chapter 5

**This was a lot more difficult to write than I thought it would be, I'd love to know what you think of it.**

"So," she leaned back in her chair, quietly pleased that she was able to do so with much less discomfort than before, "I take it you've brought me out to discuss my promotion."

Andrew smiled at her from the other side of the table.

"I asked you to dinner to express my thankfulness," he reminded her, pouring them each a glass of wine, "Whatever form that may take."

His face was unreadable, but she decided to chance it.

"Well, if you could get Harry to let me back on the Grid, that would be a start."

He smiled again.

"I could get you your own section, if you like."

She was brought up short, but did not allow herself to show it.

"Home Secretary, you can't say things like that if you're not going to be serious about it," she pretended to warn him.

"And you can't call me Home Secretary when we're at dinner together."

Taking a drink, she smiled into her glass.

"Sorry," she told him, not meaning it at all, "Andrew."

He watched her carefully as she lifted her the glass to her lips and took a drink.

"May I say that you look particularly beautiful this evening?" he asked.

"You may," she replied, not a little pleased with herself, "You don't look half bad yourself for a man who was dragged from the rubble all of ten minutes ago."

He looked at her almost bashfully. As he moved his head, she could see the outline of the bruise that had marked his forehead and jaw since the explosion. It looked like it probably still hurt.

"It wasn't that recent," he told her, as if there was any chance she might have forgotten when it happened, "The PM is expecting me in the office on Monday."

"Is he?" Ros asked tacitly, "Do you think he'd take me on as well?"

"Why?" he asked, grinning at her rather impishly, "Do you fancy yourself as Home Secretary?"

"No," she replied, "I just can't stand the fact that I spent a good three days deciding what I was going to wear tonight because I didn't have anything better to think about. I mean," she smiled a little bitterly, taking a drink of wine, and addressing him a mock-confidential tone, "How long is it acceptable to spend deciding which black dress to wear before they declare you officially brain-dead?"

"Ros," Andrew asked, surprising her a little with the gentleness of his voice, "How are the ribs?"

She almost bowed her head in defeat, but she took another drink instead.

"Listen," he told her quietly, "I want to ask you something. Or say something. I don't know, something in between."

"What is it?" she asked him softly.

"It's just an... observation, if you like, and you must correct it if it's wrong."

"I will."

He smiled a little again.

"When we were... in there, in the hotel and we thought we were going to die-..."

"Yes?" she asked.

"Why were you so... unperturbed?"

She did not say anything.

"I know you were angry that you couldn't move me very far and I understand that entirely. But you were hardly frightened at all. How could you be so calm then?"

"You don't know that I wasn't frightened," she replied, her eyes cast towards the table.

"Were you?" he asked.

"No," she replied after a moment, "I suppose I wasn't."

There was a pause for a moment. She looked at Andrews hand where it rested on the tablecloth, at his long bare fingers. Piano music in the background seemed to swell into her ears.

"Why not?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied, "I suppose the idea of dying doesn't frighten me. The idea of dying without a good reason to frightens me a lot more."

His head tilted a fraction to one side.

"I can only take that as a compliment," he told her with a slightly ironic smile on his lips.

She heard Harry's voice in her head saying that a remark like that was absolutely typical of a politician. She smiled too, but said nothing.

"Ros, can I say something to you? It might sound a little absurd."

"Try me," she told him.

He was fidgeting with his knife and fork a little.

"I'm really rather pleased that we nearly got blown up together. I've been wanting to ask you out for dinner for quite a while now. I didn't really know how to phrase it before."

"If I can promise you absolutely anything, Andrew," she told him, "It's that I'm definitely not worth that much trouble."

"Oh, I don't know," he replied.

There was a pause.

"I work for you," she reminded him quietly.

"Not directly," he replied, "You work for Harry."

"Even so," she pressed.

He let out a quiet sigh.

"So you won't have dinner with me again?" he asked her, looking disappointed.

"I didn't say that," she replied.

"What are you saying, then, Ros?"

She did not reply. He was looking at the thin diamond bracelet on her wrist. Her father had given it to her.

"I just think," he continued carefully, "It would be a shame to throw this away because of silly professional reasons."

"It's a bit disconcerting to hear the people whose profession is to run the country refer to it as silly," she pointed out to him, giving him a very level look.

"You know what I mean, Ros."

"No, I don't, actually," she told him, tilting her head to the side as easily as she turned the tables on him, "What are you saying, Andrew?"

He gave a half-flustered smile, conceding to her.

"What we've been through together, Ros- I know you're probably more used to it, God knows, it doesn't do to even think about the number of people you might have come close to dying with, but nevertheless I feel like this has-... it's made me feel... Ros, I'm crazy about you."

She did not really know what to say.

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